Category: Grim

Avatar The “X Factor”

I appear to be watching a television programme called the “X Factor”. I’m not really sure what to make of this, and I’ve never really watched it before, but there appears to be a simple formula to the proceedings.

  1. Young woman with slightly-too-revealing outfit sings a song but wobbles her voice around so instead of just singing the song she sings all the notes ever invented.
  2. Judge who didn’t choose the song says it was rubbish. Judge who chose the song says it was brilliant.
  3. Man in shiny outfit sings a song with a bit too much rapping while women writhe around him in skimpy costumes like feminism never happened*.
  4. Judge who chose the song says it was a game changer. Judge who owns the programme and can do what he wants says something sardonic and cutting.
  5. Group of people who have no life experience and want only to be famous come on the stage and sing a soulful version of an 80s pop song with more wobbly Mariah Carey vocal stylings.
  6. Judge who appears to be dressed for bed says they didn’t think it would work but they’re so excited for how far you could all go.
  7. Presenter pulls the contestants aside and asks how it was. Contestants say it was great and they’re so happy to be here. Presenter says thank you and that was amazing, even though it was plain to everyone present that it barely even qualified as interesting.
  8. Voting happens and some of the entirely interchangeable contestants leave, though some are then allowed to sing again and might stay in, and others will be arbitrarily brought back later, comfortably removing any sense of jeopardy.

My main conclusion is that the titular “X Factor” appears to be ill-defined and plays at best a peripheral role in what is actually a singing competition. Most of the screen time is taken up by contestants, who are, to a man, detestable, singing other people’s songs to a panel of judges, none of whom would be worth saving from a house fire. Perhaps it would be better to rename the programme something more closely related to what happens on screen, such as “Twats Singing At Twats”.

* Feminism has yet to happen on ITV.

Avatar Spooky Hallowe’en Post

You open your web browser and make your way to the Beans as the rain pours down. As you turn the handle on the great oak door leading in to the website, lightning crackles in the distance. Inside, instead of being orange coloured, it’s dark and scary.

You fumble with the light switch but the lights aren’t working. Maybe the power’s out. But wait – what’s that? There’s a scrabbling noise from over near the Bean Counter. Something is moving in the shadows.

You go over to investigate and begin making your way unsteadily down the dark stone staircase towards the Old Beans. The sound is louder here. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and a shiver runs down your spine.

Suddenly you’re dazzled by a bright light as an unfamiliar figure lurches at you from the other end of the great cellar. You gasp and recoil, falling backwards onto the slippery stonework. You shield your eyes from the light as the creature comes towards you, cackling horribly. It’s the Ghost of Beans Past. A disembodied Locker 29 is clutched under its arm, and it’s holding a range of overpriced designer pebbles. You think it might be wearing a Virgin Petcare name badge.

“All subsidising and no subsidising makes Ian a dull boy!” it screams at you through its slobbering, mis-shapen jaw.

As it looms above you, ready to sink its horrible teeth into you and consign you to an eternity of irrelevance as a forgotten comment in the Beans Archive, your browser pops up a window telling you that this monster has an unsigned security certificate.

You click “do not accept” and are redirected to the Google Homepage.

Avatar Ian vs Crush Songs

Ian: Hello?
Crush Songs: Hello Ian.
Ian: Hello Crush Songs by Karen O. I’ve wanted to listen to you for a while; sorry it’s taken me so long.
Crush Songs: Oh think nothing of it. Now, are you ready?
Ian: I am, yes.
Crush Songs: Are you ready for fourteen songs that all sound the same with the same wibbly wobbly vocals that have been fed through a cereal box and sound as though they were written in five minutes?
Ian: Erm no, I was hoping for a bit of variety.
Crush Songs: Oh.
Ian: Is there something the matter?
Crush Songs: Nothing! Nothing! No it doesn’t matter.
Ian: What is it you’re hiding there?
Crush Songs: Well it’s nothing really…
Ian: So you are fourteen songs that all sound the same with the same wibby wobbly vocals that have been fed through a cereal box and sound as though they were written in five minutes.
Crush Songs: In short, yes.
Ian: I feel as though I should be brutally honest here. That’s very disappointing.
Crush Songs: Would it help if I told you I’m only 25 minutes long?
Ian: No it wouldn’t.
Crush Songs: Would it help if I told you there was a Doors cover on me?
Ian: That just makes it worse.
Crush Songs: Actually ACTUALLY I’ve got fifteen songs on me. The last one is hidden right at the very end like a lyrical treat…
Ian: Right.
Crush Songs: … actually that might still be the last song with a bit of a gap in the middle…
Ian: Look I can see we’re not really getting anywhere here. You’ve not really thought this through. I think you should go back and have a big long ponder about what to do.
Crush Songs: If you insist, okay. I’ll come back shortly with some much better ideas. You watch; I will blow your mind!
Ian: I’m sure you will. I’m just going to put you in this pile with that Good Charlotte CD I found in the street and those duplicate DVDs I don’t need anymore.
Crush Songs: Is it a special pile?
Ian: … sure it is!

Avatar A small but gratifying observation

It has been said, somewhat unkindly, that the EP recently released by The Rapples does not represent the pinnacle of rap music and that, in fact, The Rapples may have tossed it off without much attention paid to either lyrical content (cf. Quick Go), ability to rap (cf. Crash and Burn) or, indeed, bothering to rap at all (cf. Toot Toot Beep Beep).

But these criticisms surely all come to nothing when you realise that one of the songs considered vital to the establishment of rap as a musical form is Rapture by Blondie. The nonsensical, barely rhythmic chatter in that song, masquerading as rap, about an alien that eats cars, is apparently not just legitimate rap but is a classic of the genre.

The Rapples can surely rest easy knowing that, at the absolute minimum, everything on “Space for an Ace” is vastly superior to that.

Avatar Older

Older, yes. I reach the end of this week battered and bruised by the harsh mistress of ageing. My face is lined, my hair grey and thinning, my walking stick arriving in the post tomorrow. The ravages of time leave me enfeebled.

But what has my additional age gained me? Insight, perhaps. I have thought Ian particularly odd since last October, his habits inexplicable, his voice barely intelligible, his strange looks, mannerisms and alarming physical spasms highly distracting. But now that I, too, am 31 all of this is clear. It all makes sense. I won’t try to explain it here but from the other side of 30, from the perspective of an age ending in a one, these things take on meaning.

Has it gained me wisdom? No. I ate pizza on Wednesday night and had it again on Thursday morning, a car crash of poor meal planning that could have been entirely avoided. So much for ageing.

Avatar My secret tragedy

I haven’t told you about this before, but it’s about time I did. When Kev visited a couple of weeks ago we ended up talking about it and my terrible sadness was impossible to disguise. I can’t live this lie any longer.

A while ago now, I was engaged to be married. We were so happy together, so perfect for each other. I couldn’t imagine anything could come between us. I was her man and she was my bear. (She was a grizzly bear, you see.) But on the day of our wedding, just minutes before the ceremony started, she left me, running away down the street in her bridal dress. I was distraught.

You may find this hard to believe, but thankfully Kev has stepped in and provided the following sketch of that fateful moment, so you don’t have to think very hard to imagine it. In those days, as you can see, I looked a bit like Jeremy Beadle, so all in all this is a chapter of my life I’d rather forget.

Chris's Wedding Day